Covenant

by Brandon Massey

  She giggled. “I guess I’m okay.”

  He approached the tub. She kept her gaze on him, almond-shaped eyes sparkling, adoring.

  The look in her eyes said she would do anything he asked of her, anything, and he found the prospect exhilarating. It was the same look he saw in the eyes of the Kingdom servants. Deep admiration. Complete submission. Total acceptance of his status as the appointed instrument of God, and as such, the understanding that he, and he alone, could lead them to a more fulfilled life than they could ever achieve on their own. They needed him, they craved him, because without him, their lives were meaningless . . . like rudderless ships adrift at sea.

  “You look really nice,” she said.

  “I wore this suit for you.”

  She giggled again. She was so adorable, so innocent.

  “Finished with your bath?” he asked.

  She nodded, and a coquettish smile curved across her fine features. “Will you towel me dry?”

  So innocent . . . yet she sometimes displayed a surprisingly mature flirtatious streak, as if she were developing a growing awareness of his weakness. He could speak to a roomful of heads of state without experiencing a trace of anxiety, could grin confidently into television cameras that beamed his face to millions of homes across the globe—but her asking him merely to towel her dry made his knees rubbery.

  My grace is sufficient for you. My strength is made perfect in your weakness.

  He reached for a fluffy white cotton towel, stored on a nearby rack, unfolded it, and knelt to receive her.

  “Ready when you are, my angel.”

  71

  Driving Danielle’s Explorer, Anthony traveled along a two-lane road that cleaved through a densely wooded area. Pines and maples overhung the roadway, painting the ground in alternating patterns of light and dark.

  To an onlooker, he would have appeared to be alone. Lisa and Danielle—Danielle on the verge of hysterics; Lisa struggling to keep her together—had gone to the family house, to await the outcome.

  But he had a special passenger.

  Concealed under blankets in the cargo area, Mike said, “Yo, AT, can you crack open a window or crank up the AC? It’s hot as hell back here, dog.”

  After his call with Cutty, Anthony had used the cell phone of Danielle’s boyfriend to ring Mike; he’d wanted to avoid setting off the church’s wiretapping system again. Mike had sped to the area on his motorcycle and met him in the parking lot of a nearby gas station.

  As Anthony had expected, Mike was armed and hungry for action. Anthony had quickly filled him in on the pertinent details of the situation.

  “You think we’re on our way to the spa?” Anthony asked. He switched on the air-conditioner. “That why you asking to be driven in comfort?”

  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to my facial and back massage.”

  “I could use a manicure myself.”

  “You think that hot chick’s gonna be there at the handoff?”

  “Probably. Crazy as a wood lizard, mean as a rattlesnake, and armed to the teeth.”

  Mike chuckled. “Just how I like ‘em.”

  “Get set. The spot’s coming up on my left.”

  Flanked by pines, Mount Moriah Baptist Church came into view, marked by a crumbling brick sign posted near the road that listed service times for bygone days. The church itself was a small, squat, one-story structure constructed of faded bricks. Slats of plywood covered the windows. The tall white cross standing atop the roof was missing an arm.

  A “For Sale” sign leaned in a patch of overgrown grass near the boarded-up entrance, listing a phone number in faded black print.

  “If you’re ever in the market to buy church property, Mike, you ought to check this place out,” Anthony said.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Anthony slowed the SUV and eased into the driveway. Broken tree branches and pine cones littered the asphalt, weeds sprouting between cracks in the pavement. The driveway led around the side of the building and emptied into a large parking area.

  In the far corner of the lot, he saw his nephew, and Cutty.

  “I see them,” Anthony said.

  They sat at a wooden picnic table underneath a row of trees, Reuben sitting on one bench, Cutty on the opposite bench, positioned behind him. Reuben looked unharmed, just scared. The Suburban was parked nearby, front end facing Anthony.

  There were no other vehicles in the area, no people, and the property abutted a shadowy forest that appeared to go on forever.

  At Anthony’s arrival, Cutty stood. He’d changed from his black tracksuit uniform into a white one. One hand was shoved in his jacket pocket.

  Valdez, also clad in white, climbed out of the Suburban.

  “Your girl’s here,” Anthony said to Mike.

  “How’s she lookin’?”

  “Like an angel of death.”

  Valdez walked to Reuben and placed her hand on his shoulder. Reuben stiffened at her touch.

  The kid so strongly resembled his father that Anthony wondered why it had taken him so long to make the connection.

  He backed the truck into a parking spot about ten yards away, and cut the engine.

  He got out.

  As they had discussed beforehand, Mike would remain hidden in the vehicle until the fanatics prepared to drive away with Anthony as their prisoner. To stay in touch during the exchange, Anthony had called Mike’s phone using the cell belonging to Danielle’s friend, and had then clipped the cell to his belt. They kept the lines open on both their phones, creating a crude two-way radio system.

  At the right moment, Anthony would speak a code phrase, signaling Mike to launch an ambush . . . and they would keep their fingers crossed that it would work.

  Hands at his sides, Anthony moved in front of the Explorer. The area was silent, the chirpings of birds distant and soft. A cool breeze carried the pungent scent of the woods, damp from last night’s storm.

  Anthony nodded at his nephew. “How you doing, Reuben?”

  “I’m . . . I’m okay,” Reuben said, but he trembled like a leaf in the wind.

  “Hang tight, kid. This’ll be over soon.”

  Anthony started to advance. Cutty raised his hand.

  “Hold it right there,” Cutty said. Cutty peered around him. “You come alone?”

  “My wife stayed home. She wanted to tag along, but I told her that she’d be bored by you.”

  “Shut up.” Cutty’s face reddened. He looked at Valdez. “Go check him out.”

  Valdez approached Anthony, the breeze plastering strands of her hair against her rosy cheek, a smirk on her face as if she were privy to some secret.

  “You again,” Anthony said.

  “Turn to car,” she said, and when he turned, she shoved him hard against the hood.

  “Looks like we’ve switched places this time.” He raised his arms and spread his legs. “I still think you’re on the wrong team.”

  “I am a loyal servant of kingdom,” she said.

  “You’ve said that before. Is that the church servant slogan or something?”

  Ignoring his remark, she searched him and found the .45 he’d deposited in his holster underneath his jacket.

  “I told you to come unarmed, Thorne,” Cutty said. “Are you incapable of obeying directions?”

  “I was worried someone might car-jack me on my way over here.”

  “You’re despicable,” Cutty said. “Valdez, restrain him, please.”

  “What about my nephew?” Anthony asked.

  “We’ll let him go after we’ve secured you,” Cutty said. “Now drop your hands, asshole.”

  “Asshole? I thought profanity offended you, Cutty.”

  “Just do it, dammit!”

  Anthony lowered his hands. Valdez drew his arms behind him. He heard the jingle of metal chain, and then felt the cold steel rings close around his wrists.

  He pulled against the cuffs, found them tight and unyielding.

  “Bring him
to the truck,” Cutty said.

  Valdez grabbed his arm. Together, they shuffled across the parking lot.

  Reuben rose shakily. A fresh wave of tears streamed from his already-reddened eyes.

  “Hey, man, don’t let these people see you cry,” Anthony said, but his own voice was fragile. He was praying Mike wouldn’t let him down. “Everything’s going to turn out fine.”

  “It certainly is,” Cutty said. “God is good.”

  Reuben swallowed, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. They arrived at the back of the Suburban, where the tailgate doors hung open. A cleared-out space, roomy enough to store a grown man, awaited.

  “Sit.” Valdez nudged him down.

  Anthony sat on the lip of the bumper. “All right, you’ve got me. Now let him go.”

  “Go ahead,” Cutty said to Reuben. “Get out of here, you little sinner. Remember what I said about calling the police—we own the police.”

  Slowly, Reuben backed away, his tearful gaze fixated on Anthony.

  “Uncle Tony . . .”

  “Go home, Reuben,” Anthony said. “Your mother’s waiting there for you. She needs to know you’re okay. Hurry now.”

  As Reuben hesitantly retreated, Cutty rounded the picnic table. Madness, or delight—Anthony wasn’t sure which, perhaps a measure of both—gleamed in his cold blue eyes.

  “God delivered you to me,” Cutty said. “Where is your devil god now, Thorne? Why don’t you call on him to save you?”

  Anthony finally uttered the code phrase that he and Mike had decided upon.

  “Can’t we all just get along?” he asked.

  Sneering, Cutty punched him in the face. Anthony rocked sideways and nearly tumbled off the bumper. Jaw numb, he spat out a thin stream of blood.

  “Dear God.” Cutty massaged his knuckles. “That felt so good.”

  “Not as good as this is going to feel to me, asshole,” Valdez said.

  The woman had drawn a semi-automatic pistol. She leveled the gun at Cutty.

  What the hell?

  “Valdez?” Cutty said, in a quavering voice. “What . . . what are you doing?”

  “I’m with the FBI, you prick.” She chambered a round in the gun. “Put your hands in the air. Now.”

  Anthony’s mind reeled. The FBI?

  Drawing backward a step, Cutty slowly raised his hands.

  Then, in an eerily calm voice, he said, “No weapon formed against me shall prosper,” and fled into the woods.

  72

  Valdez fired several rounds at Cutty, but the guy, crouched low and scrambling in an erratic, zigzag path through the trees and undergrowth, nimbly escaped gunfire. His white tracksuit faded in the shadowy distance.

  “Dammit!” Valdez lowered her smoking pistol. “We lost him.”

  “You’re really FBI?” Anthony asked. Thanks to his aching jaw, the words were like stones in his mouth.

  “On your feet,” she said. “Turn around.”

  He did as she asked. She unlocked the handcuffs and clipped them to her utility belt.

  He rubbed his chafed wrists. Circumstances had taken such a dramatic, unexpected turn that he felt dizzy. Why was the FBI involved? Had Bob known about it, and if so, why hadn’t he told him?

  Although Valdez had gotten him out of a jam, until he had a better handle on what was going on, he had to be careful. Cops, whether of the local or the federal variety, always harbored an agenda—and it might not be the same as yours.

  “I work out of the Atlanta field office,” Valdez said. “I’ve been undercover at New Kingdom for three months.”

  “You speak English like a native.”

  “That’s ‘cause I am a native. Born and raised in Spanish Harlem.”

  “I thought I’d just caught that New Yorker accent.”

  “The poor grasp of English, that was part of the act, kept that sack of shit Cutty from taking me too seriously.” She looked toward the woods, lips twisted in disgust. “That guy is freakin’ loco, about drove me outta my damn mind. I shoulda popped him while I had him point blank.”

  “You saved my ass. I owe you.”

  “You bet your ass you do.” She gave him a tight smile. “You’re gonna return the favor before we’re all done.”

  “Hey!” Mike rounded the corner of the Suburban, Reuben at his side. “Got the signal, AT, then I heard what went down. Sorry I missed the party.”

  Hands on her gun, eyes sharp as daggers, Valdez looked from Mike, to Anthony.

  “Who is this clown, Thorne?” she asked. “Friend of yours?”

  Anthony said, “Maria Valdez, meet Mike Alfaro. Mike, meet Valdez.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine.” Mike grinned at her. “You were in my bedroom last night, senorita.”

  “I remember you now,” she said. “You own the dump in Duluth.”

  “Dump? My place is no dump.”

  “Freakin’ pig sty.”

  “What’re you talking about? My house is totally squared away, spotless.”

  Watching everything, Reuben shook his head. “Uncle Tony, what’s the deal? This is like, crazy, man.”

  “Everything will make sense soon,” Anthony said. “Come here. Let me take a look at you.”

  He put his hands on Reuben’s narrow shoulders and checked him for injury. The kid appeared to be fine, only shaken up a bit, but Anthony found it difficult to look at his nephew without seeing his father.

  “You okay?” Anthony asked.

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “We need to get you home,” Anthony said. To Valdez, he said: “What if Cutty notifies your bosses at the church about what happened here? Your cover’s blown.”

  “If you help me do my job, it won’t matter,” she said. “I saved your ass, you save mine.”

  “You don’t need my help,” Anthony said. “You’re with the FBI. I’m just working solo.”

  “You got me, AT,” Mike said. “We’re a dynamic duo.”

  “You guys are trying to be funny, right?” Valdez said. “An informant in New Kingdom was helping you, Thorne. I know that for a fact, ‘cause he got me in.”

  “You mean Bob?”

  “That’s not his name.”

  “His family calls him Bob.”

  “Whatever. Bob, Bozo, who gives a damn. He gave you something, and I want it.”

  Now things were starting to clarify.

  “We can talk on the way to my family’s place.” Anthony tapped the side of the Suburban. “We should disable this ride in case Cutty comes back.”

  Casually raising her pistol, Valdez blew out the SUV’s two rear tires.

  “You’re really something else,” Mike said.

  She glared at him as she holstered the gun. “I got one round left in the clip, asshole—don’t make me use it.”

  Mike winked at Anthony.

  The four of them piled into the Explorer. Anthony slid behind the wheel, Valdez hopped into the passenger seat, and Reuben and Mike climbed in the back.

  Before starting the engine, Anthony called Danielle. He told her that everyone was fine, and that they would be returning shortly with a special guest. He hung up before she could ask him anything else.

  He twisted the key in the ignition, glanced at Valdez. “By the way, can you give me back my piece?”

  She withdrew the revolver from her jacket and handed it to him.

  “You’ve got my .38, too, mister,” she said. “You took it from me last night. Before I beat your ass like a pinata.”

  Heat warmed Anthony’s face. “Well . . .”

  “Damn, you gonna take that off her, AT?” Mike said.

  “Ah, she got lucky, Mike.”

  “Lucky?” Her lips puckered sourly. “I spent six years in the Army before I joined the Bureau, and before that, I earned a black belt in karate—second degree. We can step outside the truck right now and see if luck has anything to do with me resuming last night’s ass kicking.”

  The look in her eyes was dead serious. Anthon
y didn’t know what to say.

  “Shit,” Mike said. He sounded awed. “You’ve got a helluva chip on your shoulder, senorita.”

  “If I didn’t have attitude, men would treat me like I was only a dumb piece of eye candy. I’ve thrashed men tougher than both of you, so I suggest you act accordingly.”

  “We get your point, Valdez, take a chill pill.” Anthony shifted into Drive. “Anyway, the gun is in my bag at the house. Wasn’t loaded, though.”

  “I never packed live ammo while I was working the field with these dirt bags. The gun was for show. Cutty was plenty happy to do all the wet work anyway.”

  “How many has the nut job wasted?” Mike asked.

  “Too many to count.” She stared at Anthony. “You give me your info, Thorne, and we can bring down the whole organization.”

  “We’re back to that again.” He exited the parking lot and swerved onto the adjacent road. “But I’m sitting here trying to figure out that if Bob got you inside, like you say, then why didn’t he give you everything you needed to make your case. Why involve me?”

  “Beats me. You’ll have to ask your Bob if you ever see him again.”

  “But you infiltrated the church months ago,” he said. “Don’t you have enough dirt on them from your own investigation to shut them down? You’ve witnessed murders, and I can only imagine what else.”

  “I’ve got plenty, yeah. But I need it all. You don’t want to go in half-assed against these people.”

  “They have big cheese contacts, says AT,” Mike said.

  “At the very highest levels,” Valdez said. “If we don’t hit them with everything we’ve got, they’ll shut us down, smear the reps of everyone involved so badly I wouldn’t even be able to get a job guarding rug rats at Disney World.”

  “You think Bob gave me the whole enchilada, then?” Anthony asked.

  “Didn’t he?” She glared at him.

  Shrugging, Anthony glanced at Reuben in the rearview mirror. The kid, following their conversation quietly yet intently, still looked a little shell-shocked.

  He was going to feel much worse after he learned the truth of his paternity.

  “All of this will make sense to you later, Reuben,” Anthony said. “Your mom will explain.”

  “Hey, I’m just listening, Unc,” Reuben said with a shrug.